


Slow ride

by raging_fire



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fights, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Frenemies, Growing Up Together, Love Confessions, Mates, Slow Burn, also flustered cassian, lots and lots of banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 17:03:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raging_fire/pseuds/raging_fire
Summary: Nesta and Cassian knew since other since they were little, and from the moment they met, one thing was clear: they would never get along.Over the years, though, things turn out to be a bit different. Though both immature and stubborn, their hearts' desires cannot be easily quenched.Fights, arguments, ruined dresses, broken noses, first kisses and love confessions. Nothing's out of the ordinary with these two.





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! So this is going to have more chapters, most of which are already written, but I'd also like to write more as I upload them. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song "This Is My Idea" from Swan Princess describes Nesta and Cassian so well at first. I listened to it while writing this.

_"I can't believe I'm stuck with her all summer_  
_I bet she doesn't wrestle, hunt or box"_

_"He looks conceited"_

_"What a total bummer"_

If I get lucky I'll get chicken pox

"_So happy you could come"_

_"So happy to be here"_

How I'd like to run...

"_This is not my idea..."_

_"...This isn't my idea"_

Of fun!

Nesta and Cassian knew each other since they were barely more than children.

Their first meeting took place when Nesta was around eight years old and Cassian around ten. It was obvious since then that if given the opportunity, they'd go for each other's throat and spill some blood.

Cassian was an Illyrian through and through. Born and bred in the Illyrian war camps deep in the mountains, where the conditions were harsh enough to weed out the weaklings and keep only the best of them. Their trainings, crude and somewhat sadistic, turned them into warriors fit to fight in the Night Court's army, the most feared and renowned; for good reason. Cassian didn't have a happy background -- Cauldron knew who his father was, and her mother, a laundress, had died a tragic death. He had lived in terrible conditions, with no proper housing, hunting his own food and cooking it. He was eventually taken in by Rhysand's mother, the Lady of the Night Court, who stayed with her son during his own Illyrian training. Even so, Cassian was often made fun of, belittled for his heritage, pushed away by his peers. So he made friends with the High Lord's son, Rhysand, and Azriel, an outcast with shadow powers. It turned out they made a terrific pair. And so, Cassian trained harder than ever to prove his worth, to show everyone else that he _deserved_ a high place in the army, and not just be a common foot soldier. 

Nesta was... Nesta. Eldest daughter of a prosperous Fae merchant from the Faerie Realms (or the continent, as they often called it) and sister to Elain and Feyre, shesuffered in a different way from Cassian. After their mother's early demise, her father set sail to Prythian in order to expand his trade and possibly forget about their tragedy. So, being forced to leave behind everything she knew, Nesta did the only thing she knew: care for her sisters and bury herself in books. Knowledge kept her world from crumbling. But as soon as she set foot in Prythian, Nesta realised how unsuited she was for such a place; they were practically _barbarians_. Nesta had a select educations, being surrounded only by mannered people and cultivated tutors. Even their servants knew the rules of etiquette. She never had contact with peasants or beggars, or people who used a foul vocabulary. So when Nesta arrived at the Night Court, being special guests of the High Lord, she was ready to take off. Her sisters, being younger, were full of excitement and eager to learn more of this magical land. She wasn't. She wanted to go back home. 

Their meeting took place after five months since the Archeron family arrived in Prythian and properly settled in. The High Lord of the Night Court was so stunned by their father's skill in trade and precious wares that he gave him a high position in his court. After months of shielding herself from this strange, new world, Nesta was forced to come out of her shell and join her father and sister on a trip in the mountains for a trade exchange.

They were also supposed to meet the Lady of the Night Court, whom Nesta knew nothing about, except that she had two children, a son and a daughter. The daughter lived in Velaris, where they were also settled, and the boy in one of those camps they so often spoke about. Nesta couldn't be bothered with the details. They used a daemati to teleport there, and it was as horrible as Nesta thought it'd be. She almost fainted.

The first thing she noticed when they arrived at the war camp was the _cold_. She bristled and pulled her coat tighter around herself, sticking close to her sisters, who watched the snow-covered mountains in awe. Her father left them in the care of a nurse and immediately went for one of the larger houses to begin their trade negotiations. 

She was ready to throw a tantrum, but then she saw them.

The _Illyrians._

And they were _magnificent_.

Barely hearing her sisters' loud gasps, Nesta took a step forward and gawked at the six males who shot down from the sky like falling stars. Their wings, wide and black as the night, resembled those of a bat's, only ten times more frightening. They landed with precision, wings ruffling and then closing behind their broad shoulders. Despite looking worn out -- coming probably from the training ring -- they noticed their stares and two of them waved. 

That seemed like a good enough reason for her sisters to take off towards them like rabid dogs. 

"Elain, Feyre, stop!" she yelled, yet the girls couldn't hear her. They were too excited.

Fear shot throughout her body. What if they harmed them? They were warriors, it was in their nature to cause harm to others, to have a craving for blood. What if they didn't like their sisters' curious nature and stabbed them with a sword, or slapped them with a wing?

She began to run after them, but stopped when she saw four of the males bend in front of Elain and Feyre and laugh at their gaping mouths. Despite the distance, she could hear some of their numerous questions, such as "Are those really attached to your back?", "How heavy are they?" and "Are you like over-sized birds? Or half-bats? Like centaurs, since they are half horse and..."

Nesta rolled her eyes and stopped listening, especially since it was obvious the males wouldn't hurt them. They actually showed off their wings and took the girls for a short flight. 

Their nurse could watch them. She was _freezing_.

So she set off through the snow, barely having any mobility with so many layers of clothes. Perhaps she could find her way inside and sit by a fire? She was so, so cold...

"You little shit, I'm gonna get you for that!"

"All that talk and you still can't best me in a duel. How sad."

"AAAAHHHH!"

That battlecry piqued Nesta's interest, since it obviously came from someone close her age. Two boys. 

Drudging through the snow, she walked between the small houses until she reached a rather isolated one, where two boys fought with wooden swords.

Illyrians, she noticed. They were also Illyrians.

Their wings were significantly smaller than those males' wings -- but so were they. Probably the same height as she was.

One of them had pitch-black hair and violet eyes. Wearing only a tunic tucked in his leather pants and long boots, he wielded the wooden sword with enough ferocity that it startled her. The other one, though, the other one was obviously the one with the pathetic battlecry. 

He was scruffier than the other boy, with loose dark hair and an enormous grin on his face. His clothes were clean, yet ruffled. While their swords clashed together, the boy kept mouthing off, trying to intimidate the other into backing off.

"You're not fast enough, Rhysie. Your moves are predictable, and your grip isn't firm enough. I can easily run my sword through your throat right now."

"Really?" this Rhysie said, then ducked, pushed his leg before him, kicking the other in the knee, then used this distraction to disarm him and pushed him to the ground. "Then how come you're the one on the ground?"

"Cauldron boil me, I'm going to get you for that," the boy on the ground said, seething. "I shall pummel your face, crush your skull, then use it as a memoriam of our bloody fight, which will bestow endless glory upon me, making me the mightiest warrior in the entire world!"

Rhysie just threw his sword at his feet and slowly shook his head.

"You're hopeless. Quit reading those war books. They're seriously damaging your brain."

"My foes shall tremble before me when I come and claim their petty, meaningless lives, consuming their souls and dooming them to an eternity of suffering! The ballads about my conquests will be sung at every corner, and statues of me will be raised in every city and village!"

"Are you done?" Rhysie asked dryly. "Because we have company."

Then, without warning, Rhysie turned towards Nesta, who was hiding behind a house, and beckoned her with a hand. She yelped, not knowing if she should turn away and run or show herself.

_No, you're not running anywhere,_ she told herself. She was not running away from a couple of _boys_.

So Nesta came out from her hiding spot, back straight and chin high, as she was taught by her tutors.

Rhysie squinted his eyes at her.

The other boy, though...

Nesta squinted _her_ eyes at him.

He hastily got up from the ground and took a few steps towards her, wings tucked in tight behind him. He looked at her with curiosity, took in her clothes, then wrinkled his nose.

"What's a high-breed like you doing here?"

"Excuse _you?"_ Nesta squealed.

"You don't look like you belong here, with your expensive dress and polished shoes and..." he made a face at her braided hair. "Are those ribbons in her _hair? _What are you, five?"

Her blood churned, igniting her anger so quickly that she was taken aback by the force of it. 

Who _was_ this boy?

"Did you get lost?" the boy took a step forward, then started circling her. 

"Do I look lost to you?" she snapped.

The boy stopped in front of her. He couldn't be more than ten, with a childish face and brown eyes. He had various cuts and bruises on his face and what was visible of his hands -- it seems they took their training seriously.

"Why were you spying on us?" Rhysie asked.

Nesta's head snapped towards the other boy, who was watching her carefully. "Because I was bored and the sight of you two fighting in the mud like dogs seemed entertaining. I can't say that I'm surprised that you also share their manners. Or shall I say _lack_ of manners?" 

The two boys exchanged a glance, Rhysie shrugging in confusion.

"You think we're mannerless?" asked the other boy.

"Must you even ask?"

"What's your name?"

"None of your business."

"Now look who's the mannerless one," he pointed out, smirking. "Do you have a stick up your arse or something?"

Nesta's face went red at his comment. Noticing this, he started chuckling. 

"How dare you speak to me in such manner! You clay-brained, uncivilised, _wild--"_

"My name is Cassian," he said calmly, ignoring her torrent of insults. "And that's Rhysand."

Nesta eyed the other boy, rising her eyebrows.

"_You? _You're the High Lord's son?" 

She eyed the boy, measuring him from head to toe. 

"You don't look like much," she admitted, shrugging. "Honestly, I feel bad if the future of this land rests in those dirty hands. Were you two raised here, in the wilderness?"

"This isn't the wilderness!" Rhysand exclaimed. "This is our home." 

There was pride in his voice, she noted. Even Cassian looked at the mountains and small, cramped houses with pride. 

Which completely baffled Nesta, since it was a shit-hole.

"Good to know you don't have high standards," she mumbled, then turned away. "I'll be on my way, then. I certainly don't want to be seen fraternising with you wildlings."

"Run off to your dolls now," Cassian laughed. "I'm sure they're waiting for you to serve them imaginary tea and tell them made-up stories about fairy princes and happy endings."

Nesta stopped. Counted to ten.

_Just ignore him,_ she told herself, then resumed walking. 

"Make sure not to trip on your dress, though. Wouldn't want to get a scratch and die at the sight of blood. I'm sure that pampered ladies like you have never even set their sight on it."

She gritted her teeth. It was pointless to engage in a fight with him. He was so dense, he obviously didn't even know what a period was.

"See, Rhys? I told you. Intimidating _does_ make the enemy back away from the fight. She's obviously scared shitless," he laughed, making Nesta lose it.

She turned around quickly and moved faster than he could blink. Her fist, although small, managed to make him lose his balance when it collided with his face, then fall on his back when she hit him with her foot in the groin, moaning in pain.

"Intimidate me?! _You? _Please, don't flatter yourself."

Nesta bend forward to look at him, her face a mask of disgust. Cassian stared at her with his mouth agape, as if he couldn't believe what just happened.

"Want a battle tip, you brute? Don't start a fight you can't finish."

She turned around and left, but not before kicking some snow and sending it straight onto his shocked face.


	2. You've got another thing comin'

_It's like you're always there in the corners of my mind_  
_ I see a silhouette every time I close my eyes_  
_ There must be poison in those finger tips of yours  
'Cause I keep comin' back again for more_

_That_ meeting went particularly bad. Cassian had a bruise on his face for a week and was in a pissy mood for longer than that. Nesta, on the contrary, was delighted by the fact that she took down an _Illyrian_.

A couple of years passed and the two had occasional meetings, seeing that her father often traded with the Illyrian war camps. Each of them ended badly -- they fought and fought and fought until someone had to physically pull them apart. Nesta learned how to throw proper punches and even though Cassian never really landed any serious blows, he did make a habit of pulling her braids and ruining her hair, or splashing mud all over her clothes. 

Rhysand and Azriel became a shield between these two. Elain didn't like conflict, so whenever Nesta picked up another fight with the wild boy, she'd just sigh and leave. 

Feyre, on the other hand, would he standing on the side with her hands clasped together and cheer for her. That made Rhysand start cheering for Cassian _too_, which resulted in them placing bets on which one would win. 

Good thing Rhysand was rich, because he lost a lot of money to Feyre. 

When Nesta was thirteen and Cassian fifteen, they met at an official court celebration in the Hewn City. She hated them, but had to play along.

Everyone was there -- her sisters, Rhysand, Azriel, Morrigan, Rhysand's cousin, and, of course, Cassian. She was mildly surprised by the fact that they also allowed wildlings like him in the court.

"Hello, Nesta!" Cassian yelled once she noticed her stare across the room. "You look positively dreadful!"

Nesta gripped her glass full of honeyed juice and stared as Cassian strutted towards her.

They were no longer the same height. He was much taller than her now, probably a head more or so, and he outgrew his childish appearance. His hair, once unruly and dirty, was surprisingly well-kept and longer than she remembered, barely touching his shoulders. Despite this, he was a lanky teenager. He wasn't built up like the rest of the Illyrians, at least not yet. No protruding muscles or intimidating posture. He wore formal clothes, which was a surprise, since Nesta only saw him in his Illyrian training clothes. He still had no facial hair, which was a touchy subject for him, since he really wanted to grow a beard.

"Gods, it's easier to get rid of the plague than of you. What do you want?"

Cassian took in her navy tea-length dress -- a rather modest one, with shining beads sewn into the upper part. Her white shoes didn't have any heels, since she couldn't properly walk in those yet. 

Then, as if out of habit, he pulled one of her curls.

Nesta slapped his hand at once. "Paws off, you beast!"

"Are you ever going to outgrow these? You still look like you're eight," he pointed out.

She sighed. "You still act like you're five, Cassian. Also, love that baby face of yours. You don't look a day past ten."

That seemed to hit a nerve. Nesta's amusement flared.

"You're the one to talk! No wonder why no guy likes you, Nesta. Still have a long way to go in the rack department."

He had the nerve to look pointedly at her chest, which made Nesta blush furiously. Oh, now _she_ was angry.

"That shows just how shallow males like you are, you idle-headed, churlish, misogynistic--"

Cassian pushed past her, bumping into her on purpose, and poured himself a glass of juice. 

"I'm not misogynistic at all. On the contrary, I view women as worthy opponents, even to be feared. Not you, of course, since you're a looooong way from being a full-grown woman. I'm just pointing out the obvious."

Despite the loud music and room filled with laughter and yelling, Nesta could hear nothing except the roaring in her head.

She was so, so close to punching him...

"Don't worry Cassian, I'm as much a woman as you're an Illyrian," she smiled sweetly at him, enjoying the way his shoulders tensed up.

"I _am_ an Illyrian, you snake."

"You're a functional moron at best."

"And you're a vain, single-minded, pampered bitch."

Nesta raised her eyebrows. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

She could hear the rest of his group, including her sisters, snickering in one of the corners, probably whispering about their ongoing quarrel. This was nothing out of the ordinary for them. Even at such wild parties where there was no adult to pull them apart, because everyone was too busy with having the time of their lives to notice how the two of them were moments away from tearing each other apart.

"Don't worry Nesta dear, one day someone will like you for who you are. A stone cold _bitch_."

Nesta placed her hands on her hips, trying to appear intimidating. "Well, at least someone _is_ going to like me. No one would be desperate enough to like you. Never mind the bastard title, but honestly, you look nothing like the rest of the Illyrians. Most of them are _so_ handsome."

She took a sip of her drink, tilting her head at Cassian. He made a face at her, one that indicated that despite acting childish, her jabs found their mark. Good.

"Are you sure your wings aren't just glued to your back? Because you're also terrible at flying."

"How dare you!" he almost shouted, eyes filled with shock. "I'm a terrific flyer! You can't even hold a sword in your hand!"

"That's because I'm no warrior."

"'Course you aren't. You don't have the courage and valiance of one. Not even thetutors want to be around you anymore, Nesta. You're _that_ horrible. No one likes being around you."

Bastard. Fucking bastard.

"Except you. You're always around, annoying me."

"That's because you're so easy to annoy, Nes. You make things too easy. Now if you'll excuse me..." he pretended to lean forward to grab something from the table, and before Nesta could predict, Cassian tipped his glass forward and spilled the red juice on her dress, making her jump back. "I've had enough of your dark presence today. I hope a carriage runs you over."

"You fucking dickhead!" Nesta yelled after him, using curse words she didn't usually dare utter near so many people. "Burn in the lowest hell!"

"Can't wait to see you there!" Cassian yelled back, showing her a vulgar gesture that had Nesta fuming.

Gods above, it wasn't normal to despise someone so much. Yet Cassian seemed the ideal person to hate. 

As Nesta tried -- and failed -- to clean her dress with a couple of napkins, she caught a glimpse of money exchanging hands not far away from where she was standing. Feyre begrudgingly gave a couple of coins to a beaming Rhysand, who pumped his fists in the air in a victorious way.

Despite her sister betting on her each time, she couldn't help but resent her and Rhysand a little, too.


	3. Fourteen candles

_ It's a new world, it's a new start, _   
_ It's alive with the beating of young hearts_   
_ It's a new day, it's a new plan, _   
_ I've been waiting for you_   
_ Here I am_

The years went by and not much changed between Nesta and Cassian. Despite seeing each other more often than never, since her father traded a lot in the Illyrian mountains, the two of them didn't always get along. 

Her father, though, seemed to quite like Cassian.

"No wonder he's so talented! That boy made me laugh to tears today when I stumbled upon him at a local shop. I also hear he's very skilled at fighting, too. He even offered to teach me some moves! I think I might just take him up on that offer!" their father laughed, joined in only by Feyre and Elain. Nesta, on the other hand, was too busy bending her fork to notice.

When Nesta turned fourteen, it was the middle of the summer. She was hanging out in the only blooming orchard the Illyrians had, looking for a quiet spot to read and be away from her father and his annoying guests. Feyre and Elain were at the lake, taking a swim. She wasn't in the mood for that.

Turns out, the orchard wasn't empty. Several kids, mostly Illyrians, were playing around and mock-fighting between the trees, chasing each other with sticks and wooden swords, wings flared wide. Great.

After finding a shady spot under an apple tree, Nesta placed the blanket on the grass and was ready to get to reading, but something caught her attention. The branches were hanging low with ripe, bright red apples, looking sweet enough that Nesta wanted one immediately. 

Well, it's not like she could get one. The tree branches were still too high enough for her, and every attempt at climbing ended up with her on her ass. She gave up when some of the kids noticed her failed attempts and started laughing at her.

Embarrassed, Nesta shot them a glare and plopped down on her blanket.

"Did you see that?" one of the boys laughed, pointing at her. "That's the lamest thing I've ever seen!"

They all laughed, getting closer and closer to her spot. Three boys and two girls, all looking to be around her age.

Nesta bit back her tongue and opened her book.

"Well that's because she's just a prissy High Fae," one of the girls mused. "They're only good for breeding. At least that's what my mom says."

"Mine says they're stiffer than a board and only lay on their back while at it," the other girl giggled.

"Well, this one certainly looks like she has a stick up her bum. Want some of those apples?" one of the Illyrian boys asked her, taking a step forward.

"What I want," Nesta sneered, "is for all of you to get lost, assholes."

They fell silent for a heartbeat, giving Nesta the impression that they would actually leave her be, but they burst into laughing the next moment.

Well, fuck.

"Hey Madric, let's offer the girl some apples!"

Nesta yelped when one of the boys threw a rotten apple at her, hitting her leg and ruining her brand new summer dress. It had been a gift from her father.

"You idiots, stop!" she screamed, standing up.

"Oh, look, another one!"

Another rotten apple hit her, this time in her arm, then her hip. They got closer and closer, and try as she might, Nesta was shit at dodging all of them. The two girls remained in the back and giggled while the boys kept hitting her with those stinking apples, making it hard for Nesta to not burst into crying.

"Stop! Enough!"

"It seemed I missed a spot on your face!" one of them said and took aim, making Nesta raise her arms to cover her face. 

Before that apple could fly towards her, a shadow shot from the sky and landed near the boy, pushing him so hard that he fell face-first in the dirt.

"Didn't anyone teach you that it's shit to bully people, Kevan? You're such a fucking dickhead."

Nesta lowered her arms just in time to see Cassian kick some dirt in the boy's face, making him swear and shout.

When he glowered at the other two boys, their rotten apples fell from their hands, which were now upraised, wings lowered in surrender. Even the girls scattered. They knew very well that they wouldn't stand a chance against Cassian, who not only was older than them, but also stronger.

"Get lost. _Now_."

They did at once, except the boy on the ground. Cassian lifted him up and though he was unsteady, Kevan managed to keep his balance. He was shorter than Cassian and looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes.

"Apologise to her."

"I'm not--"

Cassian's knee connected with his crotch and Kevan doubled over, swearing again. 

"We could do this all day, buddy," he said nonchalantly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Kevan yelled again and again, casting her a pain-filled look.

Cassian looked at her questioningly, wanting to know if he should let him go or not.

"Just another little thing," Nesta said, them approached the boy.

She barely cast him a furious look before punching him hard and fast, sending him to the ground. Blood started gushing out from his nose a moment later.

"Go to hell, you piece of shit."

The boy managed to get up and clumsily ran away while gripping his nose. When he was finally out of sight, Nesta looked down at her ruined dress, still feeling the slight pain of where those blasted apples hit her.

Why were kids so cruel? 

"I'm sorry," Cassian murmured, looking at his feet. "Are you okay? Do you want to see a healer?"

"No, I'm okay," she quickly shook her head. "Thank you, Cassian."

A smile bloomed on his face. Nesta rarely thanked Cassian for anything.

"I wanted to tell you happy birthday," he said, smiling brightly than the sun itself. "And I'm sorry for what those idiots did. I'll make sure to make them pay again later. Look, this is for you."

He took an envelope out of his pocket and extended it to her. With a puzzled expression, Nesta took it.

"What is it?"

"Open it later. Now give me a moment."

Before she could ask him what he meant, Cassian shot upwards, black wings spread wide, glistening in the sun. A look of awe passed Nesta's face -- no matter how often she saw Illyrians flying, it still seemed surreal. The freedom it instilled, though not all of them benefited from it. 

Cassian glided towards the highest tree branches, which held the best apples. He took a handful of them, secured them all in his pockets and jacket, which was turned into a bundle full of them, then landed right next to her. Nesta couldn't help but beam.

"Hungry?" he asked, then put them all down on her blanket. 

Nesta snatched one right away and bit down on it. Gods, it was sweeter than she thought. "This is delicious," she half-moaned, munching. "Thank you, Cass."

He winked at her, then sat down on the blanket, beckoning her to join him. Nesta did just that, full of glee and partially forgetting about her ruined dress.

Cassian proceeded to tell Nesta all about his day and training and the newest fight he got in, which ended with him victorious, of course. Then Nesta began a long rant about the books she had recently finished, including a short summary about the one she brought along. For all his brawn, Cassian was intently listening to her every word, asking questions here and there. 

They laughed and joked and made fun of the other kids. After gorging on apples until neither of them could properly breathe, the two of them played chase to see which one would get sick first. 

Cassian did.

That was one of the best birthdays Nesta ever had.

* * *

That night, while everyone was sound asleep, Nesta opened the letter from Cassian.

<strike> _Dear Nesta,_ </strike>

<strike> _Dear Miss Archeron,_ </strike> <strike> </strike>

<strike> _Dear Nesta Archeron,_ </strike>

_Dear witch-demon,_

_Unlike you, I am not a literary male. And before you call me a "boy", Nesta, I will have you know that my beard finally started to grow, so take that._

_Writing letters is definitely not among my talents, but I will give it a shot._

_First of all, you are the meanest, cruelest and venomous person I have ever met. You are always scheming and those withering glares are getting better by the year, I must admit. You always cheat when we play games and do anything in your power to win, no matter the casualties. Sometimes I think you would be capable to kill someone just to win._

_But from time to time, I let you win. _

Nesta's heart swelled -- Cassian's ego was big enough that losing even a game would hurt it.

_And that is because your scream of victory and contagious joy is worth losing a few games. _

_I also think you are kind and have a very, very strong moral compass. You like acting tough, sure, but I know you have a good heart. Anyone who knows you well enough knows that. Or at least I like to think that I know you that well._

_Which is why I also know that despite your many protests, I think of you as a friend. Since the day you punched me in the face when we were young, actually. Seeing you bully mean girls and boys is priceless, and I love how you trick them into playing mind games they cannot possibly hope to win (and how you also make them pay you after losing). And how excited you are about books; I will be honest with you, I have yet to finish all the books you gave me, but I did enjoy the few I have read. Your taste is not half as bad as I expected. But I promise I will finish them all by the time you turn fifteen._

_I am very glad to have met you, Nes. I wish you the happiest year a demon like you could have._

_P.S.: There are five of my favourite books on your bed. I sneaked into your room earlier this day. I hope you will like them as much as I did._

_Your handsome, funny, skilled and adventurous friend, _

_Cassian._

Nesta reread that letter at least four times that night, trying hard to abstain her smile.

It truly was a good birthday.


	4. Can you feel the love tonight?

_Sometimes I hate every single stupid word you say _

_Sometimes I wanna slap you in your whole face _

_There's no one quite like you, you push all my buttons down_

_I know life would suck without you _

_At the same time, I wanna hug you_

_I wanna wrap my hands around your neck_

_You're an asshole but I love you_

_And you make me so mad, I ask myself_

_Why I'm still here, or where could I go_

_You're the only love I've ever known_

_But I hate you, I really hate you_

_So much I think it must be_

_True love_

When Nesta was seventeen and Cassian nineteen, they went camping deep into the Illyrian mountains. Not alone, gods forbid. Feyre accompanied them, along with Rhysand, Azriel and Mor. Elain wasn't too fond of the cold and woods, so she chose to remain back home, in Velaris. Amren, too, since she hated these mountains.

The general pretext was that the girls needed a break from the loud city and the boys could use more exercise as well as protect the girls from any dangers.

That was a ton of bullshit.

The whole trip was bullshit.

Nesta had been practically dragged here by Feyre, whom their father wouldn't have allowed to leave the city without someone trustworthy to look after her. The _actual_ purpose was for Feyre and Rhysand to get to spend some time together without too many prying eyes, since they were enamoured with each other or something. Nesta was almost sure it was a fleeting romance.

They had winnowed in the campsite, thank the Cauldron. Walking there would've been a nightmare. Three tents were already set up and a big fire was burning a few feet away from them. 

"Well, this looks cozy enough," Feyre noticed as soon as they got there. "But I actually need to... um... I'd love to take a walk around and admire the scenery. It's all so breathtaking."

Nesta rolled her eyes as Rhysand turned towards Feyre with a dazzling smile. She sat on a log near the fire, greedy to warm her chilled bones.

"Then I hope you don't mind me accompanying you. Just in case something happens." 

Mor, bless her heart, saw right through their bullshit. "We can play pretend all you want, but let's be honest, if something in this woods tried to harm Feyre, she'd kill it faster than you'd scream for help, cousin."

Everyone except Rhysand laughed. Feyre was really growing into her powers, being a worthy opponent who enjoyed practicing her skills.

"Then I shall make sure that every creature in these woods is safe from her dark and malicious powers," he said, then took Feyre's gloved hand in his. "Come on, let's go, there's this cliff near..."

And gone they were.

Soon enough, Mor retreated into one of the tents were Azriel was probably in, since these two were close friends. Nesta was left alone, which made her exhale in relief.

At last, some peace and quiet.

It was starting to get really dark, but despite this, she pulled open her satchel and took out the novel she was currently reading.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the most stubborn princess in the kingdom. What's a high-born lady like you doing in a dump like this?"

The fact that Nesta didn't rip that book apart could be counted as a small victory.

"Trying to get away from the likes of you. It seems like I'm out of luck."

Cassian had the nerve to sit on the same log as her, his wings stretched wide behind him -- and nudged her forward with one of it.

"Oops, my bad," he grinned.

Nesta shot him a furious glare. Cassian's long years of training _finally_ started to show. Nesta wasn't blind -- he transformed radically. He was now a head and a _half_ taller than her, which proved to be annoying during their often meetings. His hair was tied behind his back in a bun, showing his dark stubble. Lines and swirls from his tattoos could be visible on his neck, though she knew well enough that they covered most of his muscled chest and arms, a mark of his Illyrian heritage. The lankiness was gone, replaced by a warrior's posture and strong muscles. 

And even though it was hard to admit, he was turning out to be pretty handsome, too. _Very_ handsome, in a rugged, very savage way. Ugh, why was she even thinking about him like that?!

"Prick," she muttered. "Took you long enough to fly here. Are you getting out of shape?" Nesta asked, but before he could reply, she added: "Not that you ever had any, just to be clear."

"Ha, ha, very funny," Cassian rolled his eyes. "I got caught up in a storm. This weather is shit."

"Then why did you even come?"

Cassian shot her a sideway glance while he took off the red siphons from both his hands, the shoulders. He seemed worn out.

"Because I'm in desperate need of a reprieve from the training and being here is a thousand times better than in the camps. Also, because I was really looking forward to see how you're faring. Still with your nose buried in books?"

"Where else would it be?" she answered, then realised the opportunity she gave him. "Please don't answer that. It was a rhetorical question."

He chuckled and leaned forward to look at the book's title. 

"Romance?" be crinkled his noise, then turned his gaze towards her. "Who are you and what did you do to the heartless Nesta I knew since I was young?"

Nesta laughed, which was a rare thing to do in Cassian's presence, except when she laughed _at_ him. She put the book back in her satchel and zipped it shut.

"First of all, it's a horror love story."

"Same thing."

"Second of all, stop prying."

"I can't. Nine years and you're still a mystery to me, Nesta Archeron."

"No, you're just shit at figuring people out."

He gasped. "What a cruel thing to say! But that doesn't surprise me at all, since it comes from you. See, I _do_ know you. For some reason, it feels like I've known you forever."

Somehow, that seemed to dim Nesta's amusement, replacing it with wonder. What did he mean by that? They've known each other since they were children, yes, but it's not like they have been glued to each other's side. If that were the case, one of them would've attended the other's funeral for sure.

"So," he quickly changed the subject, placing his hands in front of the fire to warm them. "How come you're here? In the woods? They're not really your scenery."

"Feyre made me. Father wouldn't have let her come alone with Rhysand."

Cassian chuckled, slowly shaking his head. "Oh, love really drives you crazy, especially if she managed to persuade you to come."

"I was bored anyway."

"How come?" he perked an eyebrow. "Don't have any suitors lined up at your door, ready to have their asses kicked by you?"

"I got tired of doing that," she lied, since no one was actually interested in her.

"You mean you finally woke up and had to face the harsh reality."

Nesta shot him a glare. "I don't see any women knocking at your door, either. For someone who boasts so much, I would've thought there'd be at least one or two enamoured fools running after you."

"There are!" he said loudly, then softer, "There are. You're just jealous."

"Of?"

"Of them getting into bed with this," he gestured to his body, grinning like a fool. 

Nesta couldn't help but burst into a crazed laughter. Cassian scowled at her.

"Into _what?" _she laughed harder, clutching her stomach. 

She didn't know what was more hilarious; his deepening scowl or the petty lies he was trying to sell. Like it or not, Nesta _knew_ Cassian and his many antiques -- the Illyrians talked often and _a lot_ and she happened to be good at eavesdropping. Cassian wasn't ever spotted with females, or even talking to them too often. 

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because it's far from true," she said, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. "Cassian, there's no need to be embarrassed by your bad luck when it comes to women. Everyone knows it. _I_ know it."

Denying it to his last breath was something Cassian would certainly do, so she expected nothing less. However, it was surprising to see him do the exact opposite -- sigh in defeat and place his head in his hands. Nesta watched him in silence, confused and a little bit lost.

Cassian never backed down during their fights and teasings. _Never_.

"Then you must also know the reason for that."

Nesta's endless list of retorts was suddenly blank. Surely he wasn't being serious -- that hushed voice and obvious discomfort he was showing. Even his body, usually as much as possible on display and puffed up, seemed self-conscious, moving his hands from his face and crossing them at the chest.

What was happening?

"Why you're not having any romantic encounters...?" 

Cassian nodded in a solemn way. 

And in that moment, Nesta felt the need to be just as honest as he was.

"Truth be told, I can't think of a reason why."

Cassian raised his head and looked at her with a puzzled face. He was probably wondering if she was in the mood for jokes.

"I'm not joking, you buffoon. You may be annoying to _me_, but not everyone must think that," she admitted, then changed her mind when Cassian gave her another look. "Okay, _almost_ everyone thinks that, but not in a bad way. Otherwise, you're not half as bad as the rest of your kind, anyway. Especially with the way they treat females."

Cassian's expression soured. "You know very well what I think about those atrocities and how much I am against them. They shouldn't even dare call themselves males if they behave like animals and hurt females just because their egos get easily hurt. But the reason why..." he took a shaky breath, keeping his eyes focused on the fire. "They steer clear of me because I'm a bastard. Because I have no name, I don't come from a respectable Illyrian family, I have no heritage, no lands or money. I'm far from becoming a war lord, less alone a general in the armies of the Night Court, so it's not really worth it for anyone. The best-case scenario for me would be to end up a foot soldier, _if_ they allow me to complete the Blood Rite. So you see, Nesta, it's pretty clear why there's no one knocking at my door. I don't even _own_ a door."

Nesta's heart felt like it could shatter in any moment. Putting aside the vulnerability Cassian rarely showed, especially in front of her, the truth behind everyone's rumours astounded her. His heritage was no surprise to her -- she knew very well that Cassian had been raised by his mother, a female who deserved much, much better, and that she took his father's name and identity to her grave. But to find out that _this_ was the reason no one liked him and felt the need to cast him out like a stray dog...

_Furious_ was a mild adjective compared to how she was feeling.

"They're all fools, with stones for brains and hearts filled with poison. Listen to me, Cassian," she laid her hand on his arm, searching his face. When their eyes locked, Nesta noticed that they were glossy. "I had no idea. I knew they were cruel, but not like this. Especially to you. You're one the best they got. They _will_ let you take the Blood Rite. You _will_ become a general. You _will_ command the Night Court armies, and you _will_ go down in history as one of the best commanders. And that's not because of your skills in battle or excessive power, but because of what's here," she pointed to his head, "and here," she poked his chest, right where his heart was. "Don't let them tell you otherwise, you idiot. You're so much better than them."

His lips turned upwards right when a tear rolled down his cheek. It was the first time she'd ever seen him shed a tear.

"And as for the girls," Nesta went on, wiping that tear with a finger, "they're even bigger idiots. We may fight all the time, but even I know you're so much better than any of those males out there."

"Nesta Archeron, having a positive thought about me? I must be dreaming," Cassian mused, though his voice was rougher than usual.

"Is it so hard to believe that I don't really hate you?" 

"No," he admitted, smile widening. "I never thought that. If you hated me, you wouldn't have even bothered with me all these years."

"You say that like I had better things to do."

"You didn't?"

"Fighting with you was always my dose of amusement," she laughed, "and freedom. The way I talk with you and swear and threaten -- though they're all empty threats -- do you think that it's acceptable for a lady to talk like that in public? They already dislike me for being... Well, _me_, so I don't need to give them another reason to shun me out completely."

Cassian turned his body towards her, listening intently to her every word. And compared to other Fae she knew, he wasn't mimicking his attention; Cassian listened. He observed her, read her emotions. It was one of his best skills.

"I don't care what's acceptable or not," he frowned. "You have a wild heart and a fierce personality. Don't hide them just to please others. That makes you _you_, and I happen to like this version of you the best."

"Since when do you like _any_ part of myself?" Nesta chuckled.

"Since you knocked me down when we were children. I knew you were _one-in-a-lifetime_ kind of girl. I still do."

She was about to say something stupid -- really, really stupid -- when Feyre's loud giggling interrupted their conversation. Nesta basically jumped at the other end of the log once she and Rhysand came into view, their wide grins slowly fading once they saw them.

Feyre's red, smiling face landed first on Nesta, then on Cassian, then that smile turned wobbly. Rhysand simply squinted his eyes at them, his black hair covered with snow. 

_Did they have sex in the woods? At night? In the snow? Oh well, it wouldn't be surprising._

"Hey Cassian," Feyre waved, still trying to decipher them. "Glad you got here alright."

Cassian just winked at Feyre.

Rhysand wasn't as subtle, though. "What's wrong?" 

"What do you mean?" asked Nesta in a too high-pitched voice. 

"Were you two just _talking? _Like civilised Fae? What happened? Why aren't you at each other's throats?"

Then came an endless rumble from the both of them, neither knowing what to say or how to explain what they had been talking about. Nesta could feel her cheeks reddening under Feyre and Rhysand's scrutiny. They were both smart enough to put the pieces together.

And if they did, they decided to keep it to themselves. When Feyre not-so-subtly nudged Rhysand towards their shared tent, he stopped prying.

"All right, whatever the hell is going on, I surely hope you two won't kill each other over the night. The tent is big enough for the two of you, though."

"The what?" Nesta and Cassian asked in unison.

Was he being serious?

"We didn't have any spares, I looked," he continued, then shrugged. "You can make it through one night."

"Don't shed any blood though!" Feyre added as they made for their own tent.

"But--" Cassian started, but stopped once their tent was zipped and probably sound-proofed. Great. Just great.

All that openness seemed to vanish with the sudden realisation that they had to share a _tent_ for the night.

For Cassian, it might not be a big deal. They did it often enough in the army.

For Nesta, on the other hand, it was a serious issue. She never shared her tent (or bed) with a male. Even sleeping with her sisters became more and more rare. And to be thrown into such a situation without being warned first, and not have any other options?

Why the fuck didn't she just stay home?

She cast Cassian a quick glance, noticing his own bewilderment, then stood up. "I'm going to sleep. We can share as long as you keep to your own side and don't bug me."

* * *

Pacing in front of the tent he was supposed to share with Nesta turned out to be a bad idea, since she probably could hear him loud and clear, so Cassian moved ten feet away, right where the proper woods began. It was hard to do that there, since there was a lot more snow, but the physical effort was welcome. The bitterness of the winter air was welcome. Anything, anything _but_ the thought of sleeping next to _her_.

Although after the chat they just had, thinking of her as a _she-devil_ was particularly hard. 

That, and the fact that Nesta was terrifyingly clever, cunning and so, so beautiful, it was scary. _She_ was scary.

He barely noticed when he nudged into a tree and mumbled an apology. He was _that_ caught up in his thoughts about Nesta.

What was it about her? They knew each other since they were children and fought most of the time. Although Cassian had always been silently impressed by the things she accomplished through sheer will and determination, such as actively implicating herself in the political life of the Night Court and making demands for change and equal rights. For a better world. 

Perhaps it was her quick mind and clever retorts. Or her beauty, which he truly noticed when he was fifteen or sixteen. Until then he didn't particularly care about that aspect or looked at girls like that.

But Nesta... It was hard _not_ to look at her. 

He became so used to her presence, her voice and face and witty remarks, that he couldn't imagine a world where he wouldn't be able to hear them almost every day. It certainly wasn't a world he wanted to live in.

But despite all of this, sleeping with her, although not a big deal among Illyrians, was probably taking it a step too far. She was a lady, had a place in the high society. He was a bastard-born nobody. It wasn't proper at all. 

Trudging through the snow, Cassian made his way back to the tent, heart in his throat. 

He never shared a tent with a girl.

He was shit at talking to girls.

He was so, so nervous, it was embarrassing.

When he entered their tent and saw Nesta curled up on the plushy mattress with a book in her hands, looking so unbothered by the world, Cassian's heart swelled. 

He was doomed.

* * *

Nesta looked up from the pages of the book she was currently reading and cast Cassian a questioning look.

"Why are you standing there? Get in or get out, I'm already cold and keeping that open won't help."

To her surprise, Cassian entered the tent at once and zipped it close. He had to bend so his head wouldn't hit the top, but once he sat cautiously on the far end of the mattress they were supposed to share, he seemed smaller than ever.

"Is... Do you want me to leave? I can go back to the camps if you wish. I know this isn't proper and all for you and as much as I love annoying you, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Nesta took a moment to assess him, his stiff posture, the way he fidgeted with his hands and avoided eye contact.

Was... Was he insecure?

Then, it struck her: perhaps Cassian thought that she had the same thoughts as the other girls who refused to give him the time of the day because of his heritage. Perhaps he thought it would reflect poorly on her.

If that was the fact, then he was a bigger idiot than she'd thought.

"Stay," she said, and meant it. "I don't mind sleeping in the same tent with you, Cassian. And you never make me feel uncomfortable."

"Not even when I used to pull your curls in front of everyone?"

"No, back then you just used to annoy the fuck out of me, but that's another story. Come on, I'm tired and cold."

She closed her book and placed it next to her pillow, then pulled the covers over her body. Cassian didn't say anything for a few seconds, then turned off the witchlights, all except one. It cast a warm, yellow light against the walls of the tent, barely allowing them to see each other. After taking off his shoes and a few layers of his clothes, Cassian laid down next to Nesta, keeping his distance.

Even from where she was laying on her side, facing the tent's wall, Nesta could feel Cassian's tension. The air was pungent with it.

"Cassian?"

"Yes?" he replied all too quickly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you're stiffer than a corpse and I can hear your heartbeat from here. What's wrong?"

She turned on her other side, facing him. Well, trying to -- she couldn't see much, except the contours of his face and the darkness of his eyes. He kept them averted.

"I think you make me nervous."

_What?_

"What?"

"I-I don't know!" he stammered, staring at the tent's ceiling. "It doesn't make any sense to me, either! I'm used to being around you and looking at you and fighting with you but not _this!_" he gestured to their bodies, as if they were in the middle of doing something obscene.

Nesta didn't know if she should laugh or just go ahead and punch him.

"Do you want to squeeze in with Mor and Az? I wouldn't try Rhys and Feyre, though."

"That's the thing. I _don't_ want to leave."

"Oh," she said, realisation kicking in. "You want to be here, in this tent, with _me_, but you're trying to fight it. I get it now."

"Don't mock me, Nesta. I'm not in a playing mood right now."

"The thing is, I'm not either."

It was the truth. Frankly, Nesta had never seen Cassian nervous, less alone _because_ of her, so this was revolutionary.

At the same time, it was sort of... Endearing. A relief.

She wasn't the only one in this situation, then.

Cassian finally, finally met her gaze and saw what he tried so hardly to convey through his words: confusion, longing, helplessness. The heart's desires were beasts that you could rarely, so very rarely control.

"You also make me nervous," she admitted, propping her head on her palm. "Often enough. I'm just better at disguising it, I think."

"I make _you_ nervous? How the hell do I do that?" he asked, genuine surprise on his face.

Nesta shrugged. "When your taunting turns personal. When you ask me private questions about myself," she gave him a pointed stare, making him laugh. "When you can just _tell_ that I'm reading a smutty book by my expression. When you're physically close to me, even though I don't usually enjoy that with just anyone. When you pay me a compliment, even though those are rare."

Slowly, after carefully listening to her every word, Cassian's laugh turned into a soft smile. Then he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her pointy ear, barely touching her skin.

"I don't think you're beautiful," he confessed. "That's a lousy way to describe you. I think you're breathtaking, Nesta Archeron. You make me nervous with your withering glares, your sharp tongue and witty remarks. But most of all whenever you enter a room, because it's you I always search for, and you that I notice first."

Nesta held her breath, not sure how to react to such a confession. What did people usually do in books in such situations? What should _she_ do?

"You make me nervous right now because of how badly I want to kiss you, and I don't know if I should. I don't want to fuck anything up."

Oh.

_Oh._

Did he just say he wanted to...?

Fuck.

"I-I've never kissed anyone," she blurted out, then immediately regretted it. Couldn't she just go along with it and keep her mouth shut?

"Neither have I," he added quietly.

That made Nesta squint her eyes at him. 

"_You? _You mean to tell me that _you_ have _never_ kissed anyone?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" he turned his body towards her, confusion written all over his face.

"Because... Well, because you're attractive. Why wouldn't anyone want to kiss you?"

"Why wouldn't anyone want to kiss _you_?"

"That's different," she scowled.

"No, it's not. You _are_ attractive."

The warmness in her cheeks was most certainly visible, but at least it was too dark for Cassian to see. "Boys don't like me because of how I act. They say I'm too stiff, too cold. Too hard to puzzle out."

"That's bullshit. You're not that hard to figure out. You just don't let people in easily."

"And that's enough of a reason for them to stay away from me. But I don't mind that. I'm glad I never gave them any attention. You, however, happen to be an exception."

"Oh, sweetheart, you flatter me."

"Usually I regret it."

"This," he pointed at the empty space between them, "says otherwise. And, just to make it clear, I do understand the whole social status thing and how it would seem if--"

"Cassian?"

"Yes?"

"Come here."

"Come _where_? We're in a tent, Nesta."

Nesta rolled her eyes, cursing him for not being able to pick up a hint. "You're unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, then scooted closer to him.

She heard his sudden intake of breath and how, for a second, his heart stopped beating. Their bodies were barely touching, but his warmth made Nesta want to just bury herself in him and stay there until the winter was over. 

Raising a surprisingly steady hand, Nesta cupped Cassian's cheek, eyes locked. This time, neither dared to look away. 

Cassian was one of the best Illyrian warriors. She'd seen him fight. She knew how strong and powerful he was -- the siphons could barely contain all his strength. But despite that, the brute force didn't define him; his heart did. His compassion and kindness. His unending loyalty.

Nesta realised, just as he finally moved closer so their bodies were pressed together, that she really liked him for that. 

"Can I?" he asked, tracing her jawline with his finger.

"Yes," was Nesta's immediate answer, and Cassian didn't need to be told twice.

The first brush of his lips on hers was like jumping head-straight into freezing-cold water. You don't exactly know what it'll feel like, but it'll make you feel more alive then ever.

This was just the same.

Nesta's eyes were shut and she let herself be driven by passion. Their lips moved together in a gentle kiss, probably not a perfect one, but it _did_ feel pretty good. Electric. She delighted each time Cassian's soft lips closed around hers, a hand moving to the back of her waist and pulling her closer, the other still cupping her cheek. Hers were both around his neck, trying to untie his hair, to feel it between her fingers and even pull it. He made a small sound when she did just that.

Their slow kisses turned more needy. The more they kissed, the more curious they became. So they picked up the pace, opened their mouths more and let their tongues touch each other's. In the heat of the moment, Nesta gently bit Cassian's lip then dragged her tongue along it, earning a moan from him that sent shivers down her spine.

"I could die from this," he whispered between laboured breaths, "from you. Gods, you are exquisite, Nesta."

She pulled back just a bit, searching his face, admiring his very, very kissable lips.

"I'm so fucking glad that I waited."

"Why?"

Nesta pushed him until he was laying on his back and she was hovering above him. Gods, what a sight.

"Because I always wanted to share my first kiss with someone I liked."

Her reply plastered such a big and goofy smile on his face that even the snow seemed to melt from its warmness. Nesta's heart surely did. 

"Say that again," he grinned, snaking his arms around her waist.

Nesta couldn't help but smile. "What? That I like you?" 

Tipping his head back, Cassian looked upwards and sighed. 

"I must be dreaming right now. Or died and went to Heaven."

"Please, they can't just let _anyone_ in."

"And there she is again," he said, returning his gaze on her. "Just so it's clear, I'm going to kiss you until you punch me in the face because I don't think I can stop again." 

Nesta laughed, loud and clear, then leaned and placed a kiss on his cheek, then neck. Cassian's hands on her waist tightened. 

"What makes you think I want to stop?"

* * *

It was barely dawn when Nesta stirred awake. The reason for that was the cold -- even buried under warm blankets and having Cassian's arms looped around her, the chilly winter air still clung to her. 

She tried to reach for an extra shirt to pull on, but Cassian's arms tightened around her, making a pleading face. 

"Please don't go. I like holding you. You're so small."

"I'm not going anywhere, silly," she smiled. "I just wanted to put on another shirt because I'm cold."

At that, Cassian's eyes opened, scanning her from head to toe, assessing what she had on. 

"No offence, but you have like seven layers of clothes on."

"Glad you can count."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? There's a better way to get warm fast for Illyrians."

Realising the double-meaning of what he'd just said, Cassian's cheeks flushed. "I-I d-didn't mean sex, if that's what you were thinking about," he added quickly.

"I wasn't," she lied, enjoying seeing him all nervous and stammering.

"Can we pretend I didn't say that and just turn around?" 

"Wow, so soon? You sure as hell don't waste any time. At least buy me dinner first," she teased him, biting back a laugh.

Cassian let go of her waist and hid his blushing face in his hands. "Nestaaaa," he groaned.

"Okay, okay, I'm stopping," she laughed, turning on her side.

After making sure that she stopped laughing, Cassian's wings -- black and shiny in the morning light -- encompassed them both, resting on her shoulders. They were indeed pleasantly warm, and Nesta searched for Cassian's arm and draped it over herself.

"I didn't take you for a cuddler," he murmured in her ear, placing a kiss behind it that made her toes curl.

"You're an awfully good pillow. And I love the extra heat."

Before Cassian could reply, a sudden cough made them both freeze.

"I don't mean to interrupt anything," Feyre said from the tent's entrance, mirth dancing in her eyes, "but breakfast's ready, if you're hungry. If not, that's understandable. Be safe and use tonics, you're too young for children!"

With that, Feyre was gone, leaving the two of them in utter silence.

"We'll never hear the end of it," Cassian mumbled, not knowing just how true that would turn out to be.


	5. I see the light

_ All those days watching from the windows _

_ All those years outside looking in _

_ All that time never even knowing _

_ Just how blind I've been _

_ Now I'm here blinking in the starlight _

_ Now I'm here, suddenly I see _

_ Standing here it's all so clear _

_ I'm where I'm meant to be _

Nesta and Cassian might have truly like each other, but their temperaments and circumstances made it hard for them to actually maintain a relationship. So they only lasted about a month before they had to break up.

Still, it was one of the best month each of them had in their entire lives.

When they were not frequently fighting or calling each other out for random things, Nesta and Cassian would spend all their free time kissing, cuddling or laughing their asses off. They never ran out of topics for conversations. 

Before leaving to take the Blood Rite, the two of them called it off. They regretted it immediately, made out some more, then stuck to their decision.

Nesta moved back to Velaris where she involved herself in numerous projects, trying -- and failing -- to find ways to keep her mind off of Cassian. It was a dreadful period, waiting to see if he and his brothers would make it out alive. Feyre was in a worse situation then her, since she and Rhys were mates and usually went rabid when the other was in dangerous circumstances. 

Still, they all made it out alive and well. Cassian trained to become the commander of the Night Court armies, which he now was. Azriel was already the official Night Court spymaster. And Rhysand... Well, he became the High Lord of the Night Court. His father was dead, courtesy of dear old Tamlin. What a tool.

That happened almost two years ago. Now she was almost twenty, and Cassian recently turned twenty-two. The youngest commander in history. She had been right -- he would go down in history for something, though when she said that, she was actually thinking about something more stupid, like managing to stuff thirty marshmallows in your mouth or something.

They didn't see each other that often, though they exchanged letters from time to time, wanting to know how the other fared.

When they saw each other again, it was a special occasion -- Rhysand's birthday, which meant that proper celebrations were in order. They had three official parties: one in the Hewn city, one in Velaris and one in the Illyrian mountains. Nesta attended the last one, because she tried to postpone seeing Cassian as much as she could.

"Are you ready, Nes?" Feyre asked, fussing over her own blue dress.

"Yes, just give me a moment to braid my hair."

Feyre frowned. "Why don't you leave it the way it is? I think it looks more beautiful like that."

Nesta glanced at her reflexion in the rather small mirror; the housing conditions here weren't that excellent. Her long hair was wavy from keeping it braided so often, and it hung low on her back, reaching her elbows. She let Feyre put on some dark makeup on her, which went well with the black dress she wore. The front of it revealed a generous cleavage, an unlikely thing for her -- normally, she wouldn't dress so daringly. But they were in the Illyrian camps here; people didn't care about etiquette that much.

"Okay," she decided, going with it. "Now let's go."

Feyre squealed and sprinted for the front door, ready to find her mate and pounce on him. Shaking her head, Nesta followed her sister quietly, making sure to keep an eye on her.

The celebrations were in full bloom. Numerous bonfires were lit, people were dancing, music was floating through the summer air. She could smell delicious food from the food trucks, where people were gathered to eat and chat merrily. As per tradition, some of the males were fighting in the rings, laughing while they beat each other up, the ones on the sides making wagers. 

Feyre spotted Rhysand near the drinking area. His whole face lit up when he saw Feyre, hugging her as if they hadn't seen each other in years. Their love was so obvious, Nesta's chest hurt. Turns out, their wasn't a fleeting romance. She was glad her sister had someone who loved her more than anything.

A loud victory scream pulled Nesta out of her reverie. It came from the fighting rings,where a very familiar figure stood with his arms raised in victory while an Illyrian was trying to stand up from the ground.

Cassian.

Shirtless and skin glistening with sweat, the male she both hated and liked beyond reason looked like he came out of the old legends about mighty warriors. 

He changed. Physically, at least. The difference was so striking that it made Nesta's knees go weak the second he stopped and turned his full attention on her.

Her heart fluttered. It seemed like all that training managed to shape his body even more -- he was all muscles now, his body firm and toned in all the right places. As usual, his hear was tied back during fights, revealing a carefully trimmed beard, which seemed more like stubble, really, but Nesta knew that mentioning it would only piss him off. His face was more chiseled, wings flaring wide, bigger than anyone else's around, looking -- finally -- like a full-grown Illyrian warrior. And the way the people cheered for him, praising him for another victory... This was all Cassian had ever wanted. To feel accepted by his kinsmen. To have a home.

The pride she felt for him was unmistakable. She didn't even try to hold it back.

A moment later, a huge grin appeared on Cassian's face. 

"Nesta!"

He made his way towards her in a heartbeat, crushing her in a hug that probably fractured a rib or two. Laughing, Nesta allowed herself to hug him back, encircling his neck with her arms while he lifted her off the ground.

"Gods, I missed you," he confessed, squeezing her tight.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I missed you too, you idiot. Now put me down, you're ruining my dress."

Cassian did as he was told, for once, and took a step back to survey her. Nesta observed that he was also _taller_ \-- trying to appear intimidating in front of him was going to become difficult, unless she found chairs to stand on. Her gaze fell on his naked chest, trying hard not to stare.

Cassian let out a low whistle. "Fuck, you look hotter than ever, Nes," he said, eyes glued to her figure. "And your boobs finally grew! Damn, can I touch them?"

"Don't be a pig!" she slapped his hand, earning a laugh from him. "Still lacking in the compliment department, Cass?"

"Probably. But at least you're no longer lacking in certain departments," he said, pointing with his eyes at her breasts. Nesta tried hard not to cover them with her hands.

"You are insufferable. Now that I've seen that you're in one piece and better than ever, I'm going to take a walk. Enjoy your barbaric fights with the rest of the brutes."

She turned away without another glance, leaving Cassian to stare at her until she was out of eyesight.

* * *

When Cassian saw Nesta after all that time of being apart, he couldn't properly breathe. A  hole he didn't know he had was filled at the mere sight of her.

He didn't know if it was because he missed her, or was still pissed at her, or because she looked so different, or it was that damn dress or her piercing eyes--

One of the Illyrians he was fighting managed to land a pretty good blow that got his attention. Baring his teeth, Cassian caught the male in a death-choke and squeezed tight until he surrendered, panting heavily.

He needed to see her. Talk to her. Annoy her, if that's what it took to spend a couple of moments with her.

Breaking up with her back then was probably a good decision, since they obviously couldn't get along. But they changed. Circumstances made them both change.

And he missed her so, so much. Nothing could compare to the happiness he felt when Nesta was around. Now even though other females paid attention to him, _lots_ of it, Cassian couldn't care less. It was Nesta he wanted -- the one who wanted him back when he was just a poor bastard.

Getting out of the ring, Cassian went to search for Nesta.

* * *

It seemed that no matter what, Nesta just _had_ to get into an argument with someone.

"Oh come on, just a dance? I promise you'll love it," the male winked, which made Nesta grimace.

"No. Get lost."

"Why not?"

The male approached her, a High Fae with a pretty face and blond hair. He was fairly handsome, as all Fae were, but his drowsy eyes and inability to keep his gait straight indicated just how intoxicated he was. Nesta wasn't in the mood to deal with that right now.

"Because I have no interest in you."

The male looked confused. "Why not?" 

Gods give her patience.

"Because you remind me of a goblin. Good enough?"

He made a shocked face, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "How _dare_ you! My face is perfectly shaped, thank you very much!"

Nesta just rolled her eyes and made her way towards a more remote area, from where she could observe the party. It took her more than ten minutes to reach the hill's top, where there were a couple benches made from old tree branches. Nesta took a seat and looked down at the scenery in front of her.

It was truly beautiful.

Not magical, like those in Velaris were, but alluring enough that it made Nesta's heart still for a moment. The numerous lights, the blazing bonfires surrounded by dancing Fae, the rhythmic music and joyful laughter. Sometimes, usually when it involved parties and drinking, even the Illyrians and High Fae would get along just fine.

"So I heard your conversation with the poor guy back there. Should I be worried that you didn't just kick him, or relieved that you worked on your anger issues?"

And just like that, all the beauty seemed to fade once Cassian made an appearance. Groaning, Nesta cast him a glance.

"Some people are capable of change," she remarked. "Not that you'd know."

Ignoring what she'd just said, Cassian took a seat next to her, stretching his wings behind him. She didn't even hear him get here -- that's how stealthy he became.

Despite her rational thoughts, Nesta couldn't help herself and looked at Cassian. Their eyes locked and his face softened, just as her heart did. Even though many years passed, these sort of moments, when she was alone with Cassian, far away from the prying eyes, Nesta felt liberated. He knew who she was, how her mind worked, how quick her temper could be -- and accepted her nonetheless.

"Is it true? What I've heard?"

And just like that, the liberating feeling vanished, replaced by undiluted bitterness. Talking about _that_ wasn't on her to-do list today.

"Yes."

Nesta could swear that pain flickered on his face.

"And is this what you want? To be engaged to Tomas, a male you barely know or like, just for political purposes?"

_No, of course not,_ she wanted to scream, but something made her stop.

Would it help, if she told him? Would anything change? Everyone thought that it was something she wanted, even her own father -- he didn't force her hand, but his need for more riches and a better status might as well have. How could she say no?

"Does it matter?" she whispered, barely managing to look at him. "It's what I'm expected to do."

"Would you think the same, if Feyre or Elain were in your position? Would you have been just as indifferent?"

_Of course not,_ she almost said, but bit back her tongue. 

That, she wouldn't have allowed. She was the eldest daughter -- she had to bear this burden, not her little sisters. They should be happy and marry whoever they wished to, if that's what they wanted. Feyre was already mated, anyway. Not even their father would dare oppose a mating bond, especially since it was to the heir of the Night Court. He couldn't be happier.

"It's too late," she whispered, looking down at her hands. "I already gave my word. I can't change a thing now."

"You can," he said softly, though there was an edge to his voice now. You're Nesta. You do as you please."

"Not this one," she shook her head. 

Troubled and annoyed that she got herself in this situation, Nesta got up and made to leave, but Cassian's hand on her arm stopped her.

She turned around warily, glaring.

"What?"

"Do you even like him?"

Nesta blinked once; twice. Was he serious?

"I don't."

Cassian stood up and caught both her arms with his hands, towering over her. There was worry in those eyes; Nesta's throat bobbed.

"Then I won't let you do it."

"Good luck with that," she gave a humourless laugh. "My father will never agree to stop it. Things are already being planned. What makes you think he'd change his mind?"

"I'll make him change his mind."

"He won't listen to you, Cassian. He may like you, but this is more important to him. He won't care!" 

"He _will_ care," he replied angrily, "once I tell him that you're my mate!"

Once Cassian realised what words left his treacherous mouth, his arms fell around his body, looking just as shocked as she felt.

"How..."

Nesta searched his face, searched for a clue that this was one of his many pranks, because she couldn't fall for it. The last thing Nesta wanted was to get tangled into his web, let him spin around her thoughts and feelings. Even though he was always present in her mind, always pulling her heart-strings.

But there was no amusement, no trace of his usual mirth. She knew him well enough to realise when he was being serious.

Nesta took a step back, shaking. 

"Are you lying to me? Is this a joke?"

Cassian looked hurt by her words. "You think I'd joke about something like this? I know neither of us expected it and I wouldn't have said a thing but if it means that I can help you put an end to this charade, then be damn sure that I'll do anything it takes."

The stubbornness in that statement was wasn't what surprised her, but the fact that he knew before her.

He _knew_, and didn't say a thing.

"How could you not say a thing? How could you keep this away from me?!" she nearly screamed in his face.

"We were broken up!"

"This is no excuse, you fucking idiot!"

"What are you so mad about?!" he shouted back.

Nesta stopped herself before screaming again, still too overwhelmed by his confession. Breathing hard, hands shaking, Nesta forced herself to slow down and keep her emotions in check.

"Because what you really meant to say was that if I wasn't engaged to Tomas, you wouldn't have said a thing. That you'd rather keep me in the dark then tell me something I clearly didn't realise."

"To what end?" he asked, his voice edging on desperation. "You don't like feeling chained to others. You don't like being forced into situations you haven't planned beforehand. You think the whole mating thing is a savage tradition!"

"I was young when I said that!"

Cassian made a face as if he tasted something sour. "Nesta, that was a few months ago."

"Time is relative. People can change overnight. What's more important is that you thought I'd flip out if you told me we were..." she trailed off, too stunned to say the word out out. 

They were mates. Cassian was her mate. _Hers_.

"Oh gods," she whispered, her knees buckling.

"Nes?"

Though she could hardly think or see straight, Nesta managed to sit back on the bench that was overlooking the loud party. Her breathing was laboured, her mind foggy, and even with Cassian at her side, asking her over and over what was wrong, she couldn't quite comprehend the enormity of what he'd just said.

Well, he was right. She _did_ flip out.

* * *

Nesta avoided Cassian like the plague.

He knew that, because she made it so damn obvious. Whenever their paths would collide, Nesta would take a look at him with those big, wide eyes, and promptly turn her back around and leave before he could say a word. All of his attempts to talk to her were met with silence, and sometimes, if he was lucky, a muffled "not now, Cassian", though it seemed like she wasn't planning on talking to him anytime soon. 

That realisation hurt more than he cared to admit. Two days ago, she asked Feyre to take her back to Velaris without saying a word to him. So he plunged himself in training and fights, turning his anger for himself into something more productive. The soldiers under his command cursed him daily for the brutal trainings he made them go through. No one asked him why, though. It was obvious that he was in a sour mood.

"Do you perhaps want to talk, or are you not done kicking that dummy into oblivion?" Rhys drawled, watching him from the sidelines.

Cassian growled, then gave the dummy one last kick that sent it to the ground. He made his way towards the edge of the ring, where Rhys was waiting.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Are you sure? You always say that when you're angry, then end up spilling your anguish anyway."

He took a long drink from his waterskin, pondering the pros and cons of telling his brother of his latest failure. 

Rhys was right. He needed to talk about it.

"I fucked things up with Nesta. Again."

"And how is that surprising? You two bicker all the time."

But then Rhys stopped and took a closer look at Cassian. He saw the surprise in his eyes, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

"You told her you're mates. It didn't end well."

Cassian buried his head in his palms and groaned. "That doesn't even begin to cover it," he mumbled, then turned towards Rhys. "I was pissed about her engagement with that prick. No, not pissed. _Furious_. I knew she didn't want to marry him either, so because I was angry and jealous and really, really stupid, I told her I'd tell her father that we're mates so he'd put a stop to it."

Rhys closed his eyes and winced. "I say this with all the love I have for you, but you're so irrevocably stupid sometimes, it pains me to listen to your words."

"And of course she had to focus on the whole mate thing instead of the opportunity of being freed from that idiot!" he rambled on, barely hearing Rhysand.

"Yes, because finding out you have a mate is such an insignificant thing."

"She didn't even believe me at first. She thought I was joking!" Cassian scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I wonder why she'd ever consider such a thing," Rhys mumbled.

"It got worse after that. After almost fainting, she screamed my ears off and left before she could start crying. Or was that me? I'm not sure, but at some point I think I started crying." He paused, took a deep breath, then continued: "I... I knew for some time. Too long, probably. But I've known her longer than that, loved her since before I could fully understand what love really means. And I know she cares about me. But things didn't really work out between us before, and back then we weren't exactly tied to each other. I feared telling her because I didn't want her to feel forced to give it another shot. She didn't ask to be mates with _me_, Rhys. I'm so out of my fucking league when it comes to her."

"But--"

"And it's not like I don't want to be with her, but she drives me mad! All. The. Damn. Time. Usually in a good way, but oh gods, this woman... Rhys, I don't think I can handle her."

"Well, who can? We're talking about Nesta Archeron. I used to say that I pity the male brave enough to be with her, but now I must say, it's admirable. So much attitude in such a small body. It's truly an act of bravery and I congratulate you for taking one for the team."

Cassian clenched his fists at his brother's attempt at humour. 

Rhysand sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry. I know what you mean. I felt the same with Feyre."

"You're the High Lord," he said dryly. "The hell were you worried about? Being prettier than her? You were together long before you were mated."

Rhys laughed, though it was short and clipped. "No, not that. I feared that once she realised what it meant, she'd run away. Reject it. It's a life bond, something that lasts forever. I thought she wouldn't want to commit to something so... long-term. But I did tell her. And though she gave me hell for not telling her sooner, just like Nesta did, and leaving me worried sick for a couple of days, she did accept it. I still don't know how or why, but she wanted it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm still dreaming. It doesn't seem real."

Cassian listened carefully to Rhysand, trying to figure out what he should do next. Rhys had it easy, though. Feyre never hated him.

"It's different," he finally said. "You two loved each other long before the mating bond. It was mutual. With Nesta... She's unpredictable. Our relationship has always been rocky. One minute we're fine, and the next we're at each other's throats. And a mating bond, on top of all that?" he scoffed, pulling his shirt over his head. "I don't see her saying yes to a lifetime of this. I'm not even highborn. I'm not like that pampered dick."

"But do you love her?"

He hesitated a second, glancing at his muddy shoes.

"With all my heart."

"Then you're just wasting time. Prove it to her. Nesta may act all cold and brooding, but she's a sucker for romance. I've seen the books she likes to read."

Cassian looked at Rhys with uncertainty. Was it a good idea?

"What if it doesn't work out?"

Rhys just grinned at him. 

"You both love each other. You're just too stubborn, which is what made your relationship fail the first time. This time, take the first step. There's no room for pride in such matters. Also, tonight is Starfall. What better occasion to confess your feelings? Make it happen."

* * *

Even though tonight was Starfall, one of her favourite holidays, Nesta was in no mood to celebrate. When was the last time she ate? Or drank? She couldn't remember. Even sleeping was difficult, tossing and turning each night in her cold sheets, yet drenched in sweat and rocking a massive headache. 

It other words, she felt like crap.

She ignored talking to her sisters and Cassian at all cost. Especially Cassian. Besides being absolutely furious for being kept in the dark, she was... scared. Scared and confused.

A mating bond wasn't something to be treated lightly. They were rare enough that she never even considered having a mate, and when she did, the mere thought of that gave her goosebumps. What if he were someone cruel and possessive? What if he were someone like Tomas, who saw her not as a person, but like an object to profit after? What if, once he also found out, he thought he _owned_ her, like some piece of meat? 

Nesta was not going to be shackled to someone like that for the rest of her life.

But the problem was, Cassian wasn't like that. If he were, he would've used the mating bond pretext in his favour a long time ago.

He was mean from time to time, but never cruel. He never hurt her. He cared about her, ever since they were children. He was always a steady presence in her life, one she came to enjoy over time, despite their intense fights. At some point along the way, romantic feelings were involved. 

The noise from downstairs indicated that guests started to arrive. They were at the House of Wind, which she rarely visited, but it was a good place to be away from everyone. Once the music began and the day turned into night, Nesta decided to get ready. She managed to get up from her bed and put on the dress she chose for this year's celebration. It was a crimson dress with a low back and a generous cleavage, showing off her necklace with gleaming obsidian stones. Should she talk to him yet? Hiding wouldn't change a thing. She had to face him now or later.

She didn't bother to do her hair; who even cared about it, anyway? 

She'd ask Feyre or Azriel to take her back to the Illyrian camps. Surely they knew what happened, so they wouldn't refuse her. Or was he here already? Cassian wouldn't miss the celebrations. 

When she opened the door of her bedroom, she was greeted by a rather shocked Cassian, fist raised in front of him, ready to knock. 

"Cassian?"

His hand dropped immediately, hiding them both behind his back. He looked like a lost deer. "Um... Hi, Nesta. I was just... Um..."

Then he took in her formal dress and swallowed. 

"Don't tell me you were just passing by. When did you arrive? Did you flew all the way here last minute?"

"It didn't take me too long."

"I didn't think you'd show up for Starfall this year."

"I'm not here for that."

"Did you come here to see me?" she dared to ask.

"Yes," he said softly, eyes glued on her. 

Something in Nesta's chest tightened at the sight of insecure Cassian. What a rare treat. "I wanted to see you too," she admitted, then closed the door behind her. "Let's go somewhere and talk."

* * *

The House of Wind was alight with laughter and dancing. Fae of all sorts could be found in every corner and crevice of the House, chatting or dancing or drinking, each of them radiating with glee and excitement for what would follow shortly. The fall of the stars. Merry music was playing from the ballroom, the musicians singing with otherworldly voices while the people danced around them. Rows and rows of tables piled high with delicious food and elegant-looking sweets caught her eye, but she abstained. For now, at least. Rhys and Feyre were probably down there, too, celebrating with their people. The rest of the Inner Circle, too. It was also Feyre's birthday, but they would celebrate that properly the following day in a more private manner.

That's what she loved about Starfall -- it was the one celebration that brought people together. It made this place seem like a fairytale.

Cassian and her strolled down the barely-lit hallways in silence, some Fae saluting them from time to time. They didn't speak until they reached a stairwell that lead them to a lone balcony, where it was silent and peaceful. 

Nesta spied Cassian from the corner of her eye and noticed just how troubled he looked. That alone managed to unnerve her.

"So," she began, sitting on the plush bench near the barrier. "Are you mad?"

Cassian's eye snapped to hers, as if that was the most ridiculous thing she could've asked.

"Mad? Why the hell would I be mad?"

"Because I refused to talk to you for a week and I left without an explanation?"

Shaking his head, Cassian sat next to her, their legs almost touching. He looked weary and exhausted, and judging from the fresh bruises on his knuckles, he found a rather unconventional way to take out his frustration. 

"I could never hold that against you, Nes," he replied. "I should've told you sooner and I'm sorry. I was afraid."

"Of?"

"Of you reaction, of course. How could I tell you we're mates, when you dread the idea of being tied to another for the rest of your life? Especially someone like me," he added.

Like him? 

Then it occurred to her that even after all this time, Cassian was still unsure about his heritage. About the fact that he was born a bastard and treated like one for so, so long. That he wasn't some lord with lots of fancy titles and well-tailored clothes.

Nesta smiled, taking him all in. His ruffled hair from flying all the way here, his folded wings behind his back, the light training clothes and leather jacket that didn't match them. It was obvious he left in a hurry, probably right after training. He wasn't exactly dressed for such a fancy party.

"You were the first person I truly wanted to kick into oblivion," she said, trying hard not to smile, "and kiss. You were always on my nerves and you were also my first crush. You always had my back when we were children. You were my first kiss, the first boy I truly had feelings for. And whenever I imagined myself with someone else, the idea didn't sit well with me. But when I imagined myself with you... It felt right. It felt safe."

She clamped her mouth shut, already feeling embarrassed. Maybe he didn't even understand what she was trying to say. 

But when she glanced at him, expecting to see him frowning or even laughing, she found his eyes glazed, full of... Of hope. Disbelief. 

This wasn't the outcome he was expecting.

"So you don't hate me?" he asked, his voice so unsure that it cleaved her soul apart.

Nesta dared to reach for his hand and clasp it tightly. The familiarity of it, how it engulfed hers and squeezed it back, made her smile.

"For not telling me? Oh, I'm still pretty annoyed by that. But I don't hate you, you idiot. I could never hate you."

That's when Cassian closed his eyes and sighed in relief, as if he had just escaped a death sentence. Nesta laughed, but she was pretty much close to tears -- of joy, of course. Never in her wildest dreams did she see such an outcome regarding their relationship.

"I know I'm a jerk for not telling you sooner, but I was so freaked out. The moment I realised you were my mate, I thought I could never gather the courage to look you in the eyes again."

"And when was that?"

He scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed. "I had a feeling right when we broke up, but I knew for sure a couple of months ago, at the Solstice party. It was when you were drunk and couldn't stop laughing and kissing me," he said, smiling fondly at the memory. "And you even danced with me in the meadows. You kept tripping and stepping on my feet, but gods, you were perfect. You still are."

"Even after everything, you think too highly of me," she croaked, her voice hoarse from trying not to cry.

His warm hand cupped her cheek and Nesta leaned into it almost immediately. She forgot how much she loved his skin on hers.

"I know you have flaws, too, but so do I."

"Your number of flaws is substantially higher than mine," she replied, leaning more into his hand, fighting back the urge to just kiss him.

Cassian laughed and just to spite her, pinched her cheek until Nesta slapped his hand, glowering at him.

"So... Does that mean that you're... You know..."

Nesta arched her eyebrow, enjoying the crumbling of his bravado. It was good to see him nervous for a change.

"Know what?" she teased him, feeling her stomach tighten when his cheeks reddened and looked anywhere but in her direction.

"That y-you don't completely despise the idea of us being... mates?"

He almost whispered the last word, so caught up in his nerves that even finishing a sentence became hard. The reality of it, of how much this actually mean to Cassian, that her opinion meant so much to him, was endearing.

"I don't," she replied, tipping his head up so he'd finally look at her. "I'm still not used to the idea, and I don't know how it will affect our lives, but as long as it's with you, we'll figure it out. It might take some time, though."

"You can have all the time you need," he quickly said. "I'd never pressure you on this."

"What about you, though?"

Cassian looked lost. "What about me?"

"How do you feel about this whole mating thing? You've known for longer, so you must have come to terms with it."

"Well... At first, I thought I was imagining things. And when I realised that it was true, I was scared shitless. But also glad that it was you and not someone else, because then I would've completely lost it," he laughed, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I was hopeful, sure, thinking that I would get to tell you sooner or later, or that you'd also feel it. But of course, with you being an insensitive bitch, feelings are rare for you-- auch, that was _so_ uncalled for!" he whined when she punched him in the arm. "So you obviously didn't know about it. And I couldn't bring myself to tell you. But when Rhys told me about your engagement to that prick, I knew I couldn't keep it a secret anymore. Not because I don't want to see you happy, but because I knew what kind of male Tomas is. And that you surely don't want to marry him. I couldn't let you threw your freedom away like that, and I'm sorry," he confessed. "Neither of us planned for this, but know that your freedom is your own. I will never even presume to have some control over it. I just want you to be happy, Nes. Nothing else."

A teardrop fell on her cheek, then another. Cassian wiped them away while she couldn't even sort through her feelings.

_I don't deserve this,_ she said to herself, staring at the male she had so much history with. _But I'm so grateful for him_.

Something caught her eye -- a gleaming green light, shooting across the sky, followed by shouts of awe and excitement.Both of them stood up at the same time to see the first stars fall from the infinite darkness of the night sky, their light so bright that it seemed to bring the whole sky to life. Their numbers increased one by one, some darting so close to them that splashes of sparkling light were left in their wake. Nesta gawked at them with her mouth slightly parted, and despite the cold that bit at her skin and the noises made by the other guests, she felt magical. This was pure magic.

A warm material enveloped her -- Cassian's jacket, which was too big for her, but the warmth was welcome. Of course he'd know how cold she gets.

And when she half-turned her head to look at Cassian, she found him already looking at her with a rather mushy smile, leaning on the barriers.

"What?" she asked, grinning.

"I'm just beating myself up mentally for even agreeing to break up with you in the first place. Also, you're breathtaking and I'm hopelessly in love with you."

Judging by the way his eyes went wide with surprise, he didn't exactly plan to say those words to her. But before he could get all embarrassed again, Nesta raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed him softly.

She almost sighed in relief at the familiarity of it, the sense of comfort and peace it brought. But when his arms went around her waist and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, Nesta realised that something was also different; the budding warmth in her stomach, the passion and the fire it ignited in her veins. When his tongue stroked her lips and she involuntarily parted them her knees went weak with love and desire, she didn't know which was stronger; but gods, it was so powerful and thorough that nothing else mattered in that moment. Nothing but him, him, him.

When they parted to get some air in their lungs, Nesta looked in his eyes and surrounded his neck with her arms.

"I'm still in love with you, too," she admitted. "Annoying as you may be, I think I always will."

Then he was kissing her again, this time with more need, conveying through his actions what his heart couldn't put into words, because they were so meaningless compared to the splendour of being touched and held and kissed by the one your own heart chose long before you knew. 

Having a mate wasn't part of her plan. 

But Cassian... She knew he was going to be a part of her life since they were children. It didn't occur to her that he would also radically change it.

While the stars fell around them, going on about their journeys through the universe, Nesta was ready for her own.


End file.
